


Dancing in the Dark

by Zetal (Rodinia)



Series: YOI Royalty Week [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Masquerade, Royalty AU, Silly Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-06 21:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14657022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/pseuds/Zetal
Summary: How this stupid tradition got started, Yuri has no idea.  He was going to walk into a room where only he and his family were unmasked, and he was expected to pick his future bride - or groom - out of the crowd.  There was no way this was going to end well.





	Dancing in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for YOI Royalty Week Day 1 - Balls and Masquerades

This had to be the stupidest tradition of all traditions Yuri had ever heard of. He was engaged. That much he knew. There was a ball celebrating it that had Yuri dressed in his finest regalia, shiny and brand new and perfectly tailored to his lithe body to show off how strong he was despite his slenderness. After all the time his servant had spent washing and combing and braiding his hair, it had better be perfect, too. The ball would be annoying, but he could deal with annoying. He did it every day of his life. Annoying was not a problem.

The other half of tonight’s event, that was the problem. It was a masquerade. Yuri would be unmasked, as would his parents, his brothers, his sister, and his grandfather. Everyone else there would have a mask on. Yuri was supposed to pick his fiancée – or fiancé, he hadn’t been told, but he knew better than to discount the possibility – out of the crowd without seeing their face. If he guessed right, the marriage would be blessed; if he guessed wrong, there would be a great deal of embarrassment to go around and the person he chose would be named his official mistress. Or whatever you called a male mistress.

That would just be awkward if he somehow failed to recognize his brothers’ wives or Viktor’s boyfriend or Mila’s husband or mistress and ended up choosing one of them. It had happened before. He could just refuse to choose anyone and say he couldn’t find anyone who he felt could be his mate. That had happened before, too. It wouldn’t get him out of his engagement, but it would at least mean he didn’t get stuck with a boyfriend or girlfriend he ended up hating once he got to know them as more than just a costume and an altered voice. There were some people here he’d hate to get stuck with, but he wouldn’t be able to pick them out and avoid them.

Okay. No more dark thoughts. No more resentfulness and rage and Yakov this is stupid can’t you just tell me what they’re wearing and we can make it at least look like I picked right. He was a prince, dammit. He could do this. And really, if he chose wrong, what was the big deal? He’d seen how much happier Viktor was with Yuuri than he was when he forced himself to be with Tatiana. Mila was happy with both Emil and Sara. Yakov and Lilia would get questions about why they couldn’t seem to choose properly for their children, except for Georgi, but that was their own fault for picking Tatiana, wasn’t it.

Yuri walked into the ball, announced by the heralds, and was immediately surrounded by several young men and women clamoring for the first dance. Yuri closed his eyes, held out a hand, and latched on to the first hand he could find. It belonged to a young man, very tall, who immediately caused Yuri to regret it. Thirty seconds into the dance, he was looking forward to being able to escape.

The next guy, he was pretty sure was Mila’s husband Emil. You could put him in a mask and a wig, magically alter his voice, but there was no hiding the giant ball of enthusiasm and happiness. Then some girl he didn’t recognize. Then another girl – this had to be Tatiana, from the way she tried to refuse even though it was illegal to refuse to dance with the prince at his engagement ball. He’d have gladly let her and then tattled to Yakov later, but the man beside her was a busybody who just had to interfere.

He’d taken the next one for a girl when he first asked for the dance, but he wasn’t. He was so much like Emil, though – happy and energetic and super excited to be at the dance and dancing with the prince and this was amazing he was so glad he’d been invited! The next girl broke protocol to whisper in his ear, “Don’t pick me at the end of the night, I’m Anya.” He didn’t need Sara to identify herself to recognize her; she’d taught him to dance and they fell so easily into the music that she really couldn’t be anyone else.

Yuri had just about made up his mind that he wasn’t picking anyone when he spotted a guy he hadn’t danced with hanging back in a corner, looking for all the world like he didn’t want to be at this ball. Yuri walked up to him. “Hey. Why are you hiding over in the corner like this?”

“Because I can’t dance. My parents hired the best instructors they could find, but no one could ever do anything with me. I don’t want to shame you on your engagement night.”

“Come on. You can’t be that bad.” Yuri held out a hand to him, which the guy took after a moment’s hesitation. “If you can’t dance, what are you even doing here?”

“I came to Princess Mila’s engagement ball. I’m a royal of marriageable age from a realm in tribute to yours; no amount of excuses would get me out of it.”

Thirty seconds into the dance, Yuri knew two things. One, this guy hadn’t been lying. He could not dance. He was completely hopeless in the matter. Two, that didn’t matter, Yuri wanted to spend the rest of the night trying. He just liked this guy immediately. Of course, he did the polite thing, and after one dance, he let his new favorite off the hook. “Don’t go too far.”

“As you command, my prince.”

No one else compared, even a little bit. At the end of the night, when all the prospects were lined up for Yuri to attempt to choose his mate out of, he didn’t hesitate. He walked straight to the one who couldn’t dance and held out both hands. “I really don’t care, but… are you my fiancé or not?”

He reached up and removed his mask, letting it fall to the floor as he bowed. Then he took Yuri’s hands. “My name is Otabek Altin, of Kazakhstan, and yes. I am.”

“Huh. Cool.” Yuri stepped forward and kissed Otabek. “Lucky us, then.”


End file.
